Aliya Al-Hassan — Theater Critic

The decision to bring some of the audience on stage works best for those who want to be right in the thick of it, especially as the cast spend much of the time sitting on chairs around the central stage animatedly waiting their turns to be part of the 'central stage' action. Sheppard also makes full use of the revolve, allowing for minimal disruption to sightlines, but The Tom Stoppard stage is not the biggest and there are points where the action feels overly crowded.

As Judith Bliss, Christine Baranski makes her West End debut as an actress playing a bad actress. Judith has very reluctantly retired from the stage, but is keen to bring theatrics into her life wherever possible. Baranski has a commanding presence, but her muddled accent of an odd mixture of RP and Atlantic twang impacts some of her delivery. But when she gets into her stride she leans into the acute and comedic melodrama of the role with gusto, sweeping from low imperious tones to much higher octaves.

James Cousins's movement direction is wonderful, using lyrical snippets of ballets such as Firebird and Les Sylphides, as well as an inspired scene where Keynes and Hayek fight out their respective economic theories as they dance a tango. "Tighten your belt," exclaims Hayek. "Buy a new belt," Keynes counters. It's very cleverly done and highly effective; a literal and figurative dance around the issues. Ironically, given the fear that so many will hold about a play about an economist, more structure and focus on the economic tussles within the play would only have enhanced it. But even if this is not a James Graham classic, there is much to enjoy here and not a moment to be bored.

Tamzin Outhwaite relishes every second as Beverly, dominating the stage as much as the character itself. Her physical movements tell as much as her spiky comments, as she drapes herself over the sofa and casts lascivious glances at Tony. Every gesture is considered, from the louche way she holds her cigarettes, to the angle she holds her head when addressing her guests with an agonisingly sing-song voice – James Cousins's movement direction is superb. Outhwaite oozes with passive agression and overt flirtation; it's a full-throated and brilliantly realised performance.

Sam Ryder, with his sinewy appearance, flowing locks and natural non-hipster beard, looks as though he was born to play the role of Jesus (amazingly, he was also a trainee carpenter in his youth). Today it is all-too easy to see the part as a psuedo hippy wellness guru, but Ryder's West End debut brings raw vulnerability and real passion to the role. His vocal range and control are highly impressive, particularly when you bear in mind he has never had professional singing lessons.

The show no longer lands the shock that it did; subversive musicals are more of the norm these days such as Oh, Mary! and The Book of Mormon (which Lopez went on to co-write after Avenue Q). It's easy to simply be offensive; it's much harder to be witty, clever and also kind. Avenue Q works for many reasons, but one of the main ones is because it has a huge heart. Kate Monster's ballad “There’s a Fine, Fine Line” is as touching as it would be in any more conventional show and it remains remarkable how invested you become in these puppets and their struggles.

From a commerical aspect, the casting of Johannes Radebe as drag queen Lola is genius; his presence will guarantee ticket sales and for many reasons, he lives up to the hype. He sashays around the stage with huge poise and confidence, out-dancing everyone else by a mile. Leah Hill's choreography allows him to shine throughout, with rapid-fire footwork and pirouettes off stage. A brilliant addition of a mini dance-off between him and the bigoted Don (a nicely gruff Billy Roberts), is a great moment. 

The production is a technical feat, but is so caught up in its own cleverness that it forgets one of the most intrinsic appeals of theatre; to connect an actor to an audience through their live presence on stage. Not on a screen. 

Bonneville is amiable, believable and gently formal as Lewis. His presence feels like a comfortable pair of shoes; familiar and unchallenging, but as the character submits to the waves of grief after Joy dies, Bonneville is touchingly bereft. Siff is great as Joy, arriving in a wave of energy that is a huge contrast to the staid and rather grey world of Oxford academia.

As a story, it may not appeal to those looking for more grit as it brims with sentimentality, but it is saved from slipping into syrup by the music; composed by singer-songwriter Michael Rosenberg, otherwise known as Passenger. It is a refreshing mix of predominantly folky soul and rock ballads. Nicole Nyarambi raises the roof with "Walk Upon the Water", a rousing gospel track and there is much humour in the irreverant “You’re F**ked”. The emsemble do good work, particularly in the touching "Keep on Walking, Mr Fry" and the rousing finale "Here's One for the Road".

Of all Tom Stoppard's work, Arcadia has always stood out. Touching on sex, Fermat's last theorum, the second law of thermodynamics, landscape gardening with a detective story thrown in, it is a mixture of subjects that few playwrights could attempt to combine. Does it matter if you don't understand the complex scientific and mathematical theories? Not at all. Carrie Cracknell's magnificent revival has huge amounts of humour and heart, which is not always a given with Stoppard's work.

Corneau also writes the music and lyrics; she avoids what might be seen as a jazz cliché and focuses on an inoffensive soft rock soundtrack, but this lacks any really memorable tunes. In stark contrast to the lyrical and vivid style of the couple themselves, clunky lyrics sound like they could have been written by ChatGPT. The band, however, are accomplished and give off a vibrant sound.

Susan is a lonely woman, yearning for affection and purpose, but Smith also presents her sharper edges; her meaner comments have harsh acidity. Always a performer to bring every emotion to a role, Smith shows a gradual mental disintergration, becoming increasingly fractious as she grapples with what is real and what is fantasy. Her movements become more uncontrolled and her voice increasingly tinged with desperation.

There are some funny moments and the energy never flags, but the overall feeling is that you are watching an 80-minute-long comedy sketch. Park's gurning and exaggerated movements are beautifully executed, but the often-dated jokes and gestures are not enough to sustain a whole play. It is interesting that American audiences find this show so funny; to Brits the humour frequently comes across more in line with a Benny Hill Christmas special.

There are some funny moments and the energy never flags, but the overall feeling is that you are watching an 80-minute-long comedy sketch. Park's gurning and exaggerated movements are beautifully executed, but the often-dated jokes and gestures are not enough to sustain a whole play. It is interesting that American audiences find this show so funny; to Brits the humour frequently comes across more in line with a Benny Hill Christmas special.

Tom Scutt's design is stunning; a black backdrop opens to reveal the lush and magical woods behind, where dappled light dances through the trees. This is starkly contrasted by the snapped tree trunks and dark corners after the unseen Giant's intervention. Scutt's costumes are also a wonder, medieval design with modern colours and textures-except the Narrator (played by a thoughtful Michael Gould), who is dressed like an anonymous middle manager at a conference.

Morris acknowledges the racism (to a point) and jealousy, but interestingly, leans into the mysogyny more than many productions. Strong women must inevitably be punished and there is no shying away from the bleak violence of both Iago and Othello, doled out to who they see as 'whores', 'trash' and 'strumpets'. Morris makes this play about gender more than race.

Morris acknowledges the racism (to a point) and jealousy, but interestingly, leans into the mysogyny more than many productions. Strong women must inevitably be punished and there is no shying away from the bleak violence of both Iago and Othello, doled out to who they see as 'whores', 'trash' and 'strumpets'. Morris makes this play about gender more than race.

These snapshots are not always flattering or happy, and much is left unsaid and unexplored. Perhaps she went to prison for drink-driving and it’s hinted that she had an abortion in college. Letts presents pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that make up Mary’s life, not the whole picture. This disjointed approach can be challenging as Letts offers up a whisper of truth, then sometimes snatches it away. But many will recognise how memories are often fragmented and that we rarely know the full story of someone’s life.

What director Patrick Marber and choreographer Lorin Latarro did so well at the Menier was to put on a large scale production in a very small space. At the Garrick, they have the space (and budget) to really let their ideas shine. The tap routine in "I Wanna Be A Producer" is given the expanse it needs to be a real spectacle and "Keep It Gay" is an absolute riot of characters and colour.

There is some really good material in the show, but it doesn't feel sure what it is supposed to be. Goofy comedy is mixed with satire, provocative dancing, endless songs and somewhere is a romance and a reunion of a mother and child. There's even a trans storyline shoehorned in. To quote Lena Dunham, it's 'too much', especially the 30 (yes 30) songs.

Even for Mischief, this is an ambitious show, with rarely a pause in the action. Farce is one of the hardest forms of comedy to get right, particularly physically. Accuracy in timing is everything and movement director Shelley Maxwell and director Matt DiCarlo have done a remarkable job in making all the pratfalls, scene changes and general chaos look effortless. The Noël Coward is a large venue and needs a production that can fill the space. Fortunately designer David Farley has created around 20 locations, making great use of trapdoors, travelators and one impressive set which manages to fit four separate hotel rooms on stage at once. Johanna Town’s lighting works in perfect harmony, highlighting every physical gag.

It always raises eyebrows when a writer with no playwrighting experience gets to make their debut in the West End, and with such a starry cast. Lila Raicek may hold an MFA in Playwriting from Columbia University, but her script is clunky and expositional at best. Lines such as “you look too beautiful to be real” should have been removed after the first draft and lead to several episodes of unintentional laughter from the audience.

The main issue lies with Kait Kerrigan’s book, which often sounds like it was written by ChatGPT. Occasional direct quotes from the book jar Fitzgerald's poetic prose against bland phrasing. Kerrigan focuses more on the love story, rattling off the odd reference to class issues and the American Dream, but never delving deeply enough to engage or scrutinise.

Despite lovely staging and great performances, the production stays a little beyond its welcome, with several scenes lingering too long. Not every forgotten work is a masterpiece, but Abbensetts's work certainly deserves more recognition. It is in safe hands here.